


The Universe with Red Towels

by Dutten



Series: Red Towels!AU [2]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Blood and Injury, Child Abuse, Hurt Isak Valtersen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Season/Series 03, Sad Even Bech Næsheim, Sad everyone really, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 19:07:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10997106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dutten/pseuds/Dutten
Summary: “Hva faen - baby,” Even murmurs, gently pulling at the collar Isak is holding against his nose, “what happened?”Isak can feel his mouth open and close, resembling a fish more than anything, but his thoughts are running wild and what the fuck they weren’t supposed to be here what the hell was he supposed to do-“A teacup.”Shit, he hadn’t actually meant to say that.---Or the parallel universe where the curtains are the same colour, but the towels are stained with red because Isak’s mom isn’t all that nice





	The Universe with Red Towels

**Author's Note:**

> Set back when Isak still lived in Kollektivet with Noora, Eskild and Linn (and Even)

He sometimes wonders exactly _how much_ Eskild knows.

He doesn’t quite remember it himself, too much alcohol on an empty stomach. All he remembers is flashing lights, pounding music and his stomach churning from drinking and the anxiety of actually not knowing what would happen to him now. Because he couldn’t go back. He just-

Couldn’t.

He doesn’t remember what he told Eskild, but it would’ve been bad enough for him to _bring him back_ to his own place and actually let him sleep in his bed (if the circumstances had been different, Isak _knows_ he would’ve never heard the end of being the reason why Eskild didn’t pull that night).

But then again. If Eskild _did_ know to the full extent what was going on, he probably would’ve called the police.

OOOOO

Isak forgets how to hide things.

Not that he’s suddenly blurting out the secret, but. Not being covered in bruises everyday makes you forget how hard it actually used to be. He doesn’t have to time anything anymore – getting changed for gym, long sleeves and a jacket during the summer, a scarf that one time.

It wasn’t as if he had been _covered_ in them from head to toe; it was usually just a sprinkle of colours a few places. Sometimes a bit more.

He doesn’t know if Jonas is just oblivious or if he just hasn’t said anything. He’s never said anything and neither has Isak. People don’t always know what to look for even though Isak feels like there’s a beam emitting from him and a too fast heart beat screaming “ _something is wrong at home it’s so much worse than what you know please just help-_ “

OOOOO

Isak had never had to worry about this whilst he was with Even. He hadn’t been home for _months_ by the time they came back to _Kollektivet_ , soaked to the bone, giggling like drunken fools. He had never had to go to the bathroom in order to change. He had never had to distract him from asking unwanted questions.

But.

It’s different. His mom and Even. There’s a difference between them, a _big_ one, at that, and maybe Isak was subconsciously trying to tell Even what was going on that time in the locker room “ _I’ve decided that my life is better without mentally ill people around me_ ” (stupid stupid stupid). If Isak counts that moment, Even is probably the only one he’s ever tried to tell.

But Even doesn’t know this. And Isak knows – or, he _thinks_ Even knows there are at least _some_ differences between the two. He’s tried to explain. Even’s getting help. He’s dealing with it. He’s not letting his illness control his life. Isak’s mom refuses help and in the end, Isak could barely remember what his real mother was actually like. There were so few lucid moments left and he just couldn’t deal with it.

Even _knows_ this, he thinks, but Isak can tell that it maybe bothers Even at least a little bit? Isak thinks it’s more of a deeply rooted fear that Isak will one day realize how much work Even is and he’ll run away (like he did with his mother).

And so, Isak decides, maybe it’ll be a good idea – healthy, even, maybe – to pay a visit to his mother. He texts her, asking if he can come over after school this Thursday (it took a while to figure out which day would be best. He thought Friday, but Even is staying over this weekend (as if he doesn’t every weekend) and Isak knows he’ll probably spend _at least_ half of it shirtless, and it would be too difficult trying to explain any marks if his mother is in a bad mood. Wednesday he’s hanging with the guys and they’ll be bugging him about it for the next year if he tries to say he has to go see his family, so Thursday it is).

Mamma replies with a bible quote, but it doesn’t involve any mutilations, murder, or any threats whatsoever, so Isak figures it probably means they’re on for Thursday. He’ll leave before dinner.

OOOOO

_Thump. Bang. Clash._

_Drip._

_Drip._

_Drip._

OOOOO

_Even’s proud of me_ , Isak repeats to himself, ignoring the people in the tram glancing at him nervously. He’d probably be watching him too, were things different.

His shirt is soaked with blood from his nose, and the red is spreading, because he’s still holding the collar up and pressing down softly, head held back a bit. It’s not broken, his nose. He knows what that’s like. It’s just bruised this time.

There’s a woman with two kids who sits across the tram, openly staring at him. The little girl is wearing a red coat and is obviously looking at Isak’s now red t-shirt. The boy is asking his mom what’s wrong with Isak.

She doesn’t answer them. Her gaze is unwavering and Isak is starting to feel a bit uncomfortable. As if the truth is shining right out of his eyes giving everything away.

She leans forward a bit. “Do you need me to call someone for you?” She’s quiet, but he notices a few of the other passengers looking relieved at someone else taking responsibility and showing humanity so they don’t have to.

“Nei, takk. It’s fine, I’m okay,” Isak answers, trying to smile but ends up pulling a face more than anything.

She isn’t convinced. Her blue eyes don’t leave his. He’s thinks she knows. She must.

“Your parents, perhaps?” His blood freezes. He doesn’t know why, she doesn’t even know his parents, wouldn’t be able to call them. “N-no, thank you,” he stutters and shrugs, wincing. “I’m nearly home anyway.”

She leans back against her seat, but she doesn’t look away from him. He tries to smile again. She smiles back.

He doesn’t remember when “home” became Kollektivet and not with Mamma and Papa. His stomach flutters at the thought.

He gets off at a stop earlier than he should and walks the way home.

OOOOO

Isak knows no one is supposed to be home tonight (Eskild is out, the girls are sleeping over at Eva’s, and Linn is visiting her parents). He fumbles with his keys and swears when he has to bend down to get them. His side hurts but it hurts more to rub it so he stops and just focuses on opening the door and turning on the light.

“SURPRISE!”

They all jump out – Even, Eskild, Jonas, Magnus, Mahdi – and Isak stands frozen in the door, staring at them in horror, them back at him.

Even’s the first to step towards him, taking three long strides and then he’s by his side.

“ _Hva faen_ \- baby,” Even murmurs, gently pulling at the collar Isak is holding against his nose, “what happened?”

Isak can feel his mouth open and close, resembling a fish more than anything, but his thoughts are running wild and _what the fuck they weren’t supposed to be here what the hell was he supposed to do_ -

“A teacup.”

Shit, he hadn’t actually meant to say that.

He can feel and see Even tense slightly, brows furrow in confusion. “Hva?”

Isak doesn’t know what to answer, so he just stares at Even’s jaw and throat. He wants to hug him. He wants a hug.

He doesn’t dare look at the other guys until he suddenly hears Jonas say “ _Fuck_ ”, drawing it out like a sigh, as if he _really_ wished he’d been wrong, and Isak once again wonders if Jonas knew.

Magnus is staring at Isak, a bit like he did when Even first walked up to them when they were watching the girls dancing. Mahdi is frozen, a beer can dangling dangerously from his hand. Eskild has sat down, head in his hands. Isak thinks he might be crying. Jonas is on the other side of the table, leaning back against the wall, looking a lot older than the last time Isak had seen him.

“A-and an elbow,” Isak finishes brokenly, daring to look Even in the eyes. He can’t read him, other than how scared and concerned he looks. “Maybe a couple of chairs. And a frying pan.”

Even keeps looking at him, and then something distracts him. His gaze moves from Isak’s eyes slightly to the right, his hand slowly moving towards the left side of Isak’s face.

Isak hisses when Even touches something, pain searing again when Even pulls something out.

It lays in the palm of his hand. A bloody shard of a porcelain teacup. Even drops it. It clangs against the floor. Isak flinches at the sound.

And suddenly everyone is moving. Even is pushing Isak into the bathroom, and they’re all following them.

“Towels, get me some towels.”

“Lean your head back, baby.”

“Is his nose broken?”

“What the fuck is-“

“Could someone find some fucking band-aids?”

“You’re alright, Isak, _søte_ , look at me, alright, you’re okay.”

“Why the _fuck_ did you go back?”

“I’m serious, is his nose broken?”

“Why is there so much blood?”

“Are you bleeding anywhere else?”

Isak doesn’t know what to say. He thinks he’s crying. Even is holding a damp towel to his nose, tipping his head back, speaking nonsense to him. The cut right by his eye hurts because his tears are running directly into it, but he doesn’t know how to tell them.

“Isak, baby, say something. You have to talk to me.”

“Is he going into shock?”

Even grabs a chunk of his hair, tugging gently, just sharp enough to pull him a little bit together, look Even in the eyes.

“There you are, baby, you went a bit far into that head of yours.” Even’s smiling at him. Isak tries to smile back, but a chunk of blood runs into his mouth and he gags at the taste.

He’s held over the sink, Even is still running his fingers through his hair, maybe holding it back a bit, but Isak doesn’t really have to throw up, doesn’t really want to, everything hurts too much, so he just shrinks back against Even, wanting to hide.

He doesn’t think about how he’s smearing blood on Even’s (his, Eskild’s) shirt, and either Even doesn’t mind or care, because he just pulls Isak in, as he would on a usual day, shushing him gently.

Eskild is trying to get a look at his nose, despite being squeamish around blood, and Isak appreciates him but he’s slightly panicky right now and ends up pushing Eskild back.

“It’s not broken, just – hit it wrong.”

“’ _Hit it wrong_ ’” Jonas mocks, placing a plaster over the smaller cut by his eye. “Just got a teacup thrown at me, and what, _maybe_ a chair or two, no big deal.”

Jonas isn’t angry with _him_ , Isak knows that, but his breath is going staccato and his nails are digging into Even’s arms around him, maybe trying to get away, trying to run, he doesn’t know-

“Jonas, shut up,” Even says, voice strong despite the tears in his eyes Isak sees through the mirror.

Even starts to move them backwards, and Isak ends up banging his head up into Even’s chin, but Even doesn’t say anything, just sits down on the toilet seat and pulls Isak down with him, Isak’s head resting on his shoulder, the back of his head pressing into Even’s throat. “You’re okay, baby, there you go, you’re with me.”

No one is saying anything but Even. Isak can see drops of blood on Even’s shirt, his nose is still dripping a bit, albeit slower. He can’t bear to look at it, but he doesn’t seem to be able to shut his eyes. Even’s rocking back and forth, as if sitting with a baby.

It takes a while before Isak feels calm. “That’s it, baby, _skatt, så, du er okay_ ,” Even says, knowing exactly when all the tension has left Isak.

Magnus is standing in the doorway, not able to take his eyes off of Isak. Mahdi is looking at the wall behind them, not able to look just yet. Jonas is hunched over the sink, gripping the edge, knuckles white, his breaths sounding harsh in the quiet.

Eskild is standing by the shower before he hunches down, hand gripping Isak’s. Isak lets him.

“Why did you never say anything?” Eskild asks. He looks troubled. Isak probably would’ve too. He can’t bear to look him in the eyes. “All that time, why didn’t you-“

He trails off. Words don’t come easy to anyone of them right now.

“I could’ve helped you.”

That makes Isak look at him. _Really_ look at him. In front of him is nothing but a boy, a scared boy, who has had to take on too much responsibility when it comes to Isak. He’s only four years older. _Four years_.

“But you did.”

Eskild snorts. Isak can’t bear to sit up so he grabs Eskild’s wrist instead.

“You _did_. You got me out.” Isak’s never really thought about it in detail, hasn’t been able to. But if he had never met Eskild, he probably – he can’t even imagine what could’ve happened to him. Would’ve happened.

Eskild snorts again, or tries to. The lump in his throat is too big. “I gave you the _fucking basement_ -”

Isak gently kicks Eskild’s knee, grabbing his attention. “You gave me a home.”

Eskild sobs, Even tightens his arms, and Jonas bangs his hands against the sink, not able to keep his anger in check anymore. Isak flinches at the noise, tries to mask it afterwards but fools nobody.

Isak’s reminded of how much his lower back hurts, but he doesn’t say anything, too fixated on Jonas. Trying to predict his next move.

He doesn’t expect him to cry.

“Why the _fuck_ did you go back?” Jonas asks, voice surprisingly calm.

Isak winces at that. He can’t tell them. Even would crumble, break apart, if he ever knew he went because Isak wanted to prove that Even’s disorder wouldn’t break them apart. So he doesn’t answer.

He can feel Even’s tears on his neck. Maybe he does know.

No one says anything for a while. Harsh breathing resonates. Magnus keeps asking Isak if he wants anything. Isak doesn’t answer.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Even’s head is resting against the wall behind the toilet. Isak can see it in the mirror. Doesn’t dare look at himself yet.

“I told you you wouldn’t want to know everything I’ve gotten away with,” Isak jokes, trying to lighten to mood.

Except Even’s crying. Even’s _fucking crying_ , Isak _made him cry_ and he hates himself for it, curls up a bit more, and Even hides his face against Isak’s neck.

“Jesus,” Mahdi mutters, hand rubbing against his face.

“Jesus,” Isak repeats, shutting his eyes. He can feel Even shaking.

Jonas looks at them through the mirror, gaze unwavering. Isak looks away, can’t take it.

“Alright,” Jonas finally says, clearing his throat when barely anything come out. “Alright, I’ve taken care of you so far, I’m gonna be grown up now as well. Where else?”

Isak feels Even tense at the prospect of him being more hurt and Isak can’t deal so he doesn’t answer. Looks at the showerhead instead, counts the small dots. _30, 31, 32_ -

“Isak,” Jonas repeats, finally turning around. “Where _else_? You mentioned chairs, so where else?”

Isak’s hands are shaking and he doesn’t know what to. Especially not when Even starts to stand up.

“No,” Isak says, or, he tries to, he’s making noises but he doesn’t know if they make sense. He’s grabbing onto Even’s hoodie. He can’t leave him, he can’t, he can’t-

“It’s okay,” Even says, one hand furiously rubbing away at his eyes. He gently pries Isak’s hands from his shirt, holding them with his own instead.

“Don’t-“

“We’re just going to take your shirt off, okay?” Even says, looking at Jonas for help, who moves closer to them. “Nothing I haven’t done before, right?”

Even tries to smile, tries to joke, tries to do a lot of things and Isak wants to cry. He thinks he is.

“Come on, baby, work with me. One arm at a time, okay? We can do this.”

It _hurts_ taking off his hoodie. He has to bend his arms backwards and all his muscles are hurting and the bruise stretching from his lower back to his side is hurting. Magnus has to take over for Even and help Jonas get his clothes off of him because Isak won’t let go of Even’s hands.

Even is trying to distract him. “I always knew you were too pretty. Look at all those boys trying to get your clothes off, baby.”

Isak lets out a sob involuntarily. Even looks like he wants to cry as well.

“No, don’t, just please, don’t,” Isak mumbles, trying to squirm out of their hands. Even kisses his cheek, trying to get him to relax.

“It’s okay,” Mahdi mutters, gently lifting the edge of Isak’s shirt. “We just need to have a look.”

Isak presses his face against Even’s neck. Eskild has to help Even tug his head back so they can get the shirt over his head.

Isak hears someone swear, but he doesn’t pay attention to it. He can see the bruise in the mirror. It’s not a proper bruise, yet, still too early, but it’s clear where the chair had hit, and it’s clearly going to be very ugly before the night is over.

“Anywhere else?”

Isak shakes his head.

“Are you sure?” Jonas presses. “Maybe somewhere you don’t want us to see?”

Isak’s face goes a bit crimson at that. “Fuck’s sake, no.”

Jonas is pointedly keeping quiet. Isak can feel his eyes boring into the back of his neck.

Isak sighs, his head falling forward onto Even’s collarbone. Even puts his arms around his shoulders, lightly, as if he’s afraid to touch.

“Thigh,” Isak mutters, not looking up. “It doesn’t hurt, though.”

He can _feel_ Jonas raising his eyebrow. “It _doesn’t_ ,” he insists.

“Let’s just, have a look,” Mahdi says, and suddenly there are hands on the button of his jeans and on his sipper and people are trying to push them down and Isak thinks he’s panicking again.

“It’s nothing,” he squirms, pushing himself against Even, trying to force the prying hands away. “It really isn’t. She barely hit it, I don’t think it’s more than a small bruise, just stop, please.”

He thinks the small ‘please’ is what makes Even insist on stopping the boys.

“We’ll do it later, okay?” Even compromises.

Isak wants to huff in disagreement, but he can’t find the energy to. He just slumps down in Even’s hold and folds his arms around his waist.

“But-“ Magnus begins. Isak thinks Even looks at him warningly.

“If he says it’s nothing, it is nothing. I trust him.”

Isak eyes feel wet with how much he loves Even. He wants to tighten his arms around him further, but knows it’ll hurt, so he instead presses his lips against Even’s neck, just holding them there. He thinks Even understands.

Jonas huffs. “Yeah, because he’s never lied about anything else.”

It feels like a slap to the face and Isak physically flinches, hot shame burning through his body, coloring his cheeks red. He feels wrong, his stomach is churning, he wants to press closer to Even, but doesn’t know if Even would even _want_ him to, because they’re right, he’s a liar, he’s always been, he-

Even shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. He’s here right now. He’ll say if he wants anything or needs help.”

Someone is running their fingers through Isak’s hair. He thinks it Eskild.

Isak feels warm from realizing how many people care, like, _properly care_ , about him, how worried they are about him. Suddenly, he wants nothing more than to prove Even right.

He pulls his face back and look at Even. “Can we,” he starts out, having to swallow because his mouth is so dry. His voice is shaking slightly. “Can we, maybe, uh, go lay down?”

He hates how his voice is shaking, and he still hasn’t made his mind up whether or not speaking was a good idea after all, but then Even’s smiling as if the best thing in the world just happened (although it looks sad around the edges and Isak could kick himself, really).

“Of course,” Even answers. “Or do you think sitting is a better idea?”

Isak didn’t really expect such a mundane answer. He’s not really sure what he expected though, and he doesn’t know how to choose, but Even looks _so proud_ of him right now, and Isak wants to continue feeling at least a little bit happy.

“Maybe,” he has to pause, breathing hurts. “Maybe sitting, would be best.”

Even nods and that’s that.

They’re all moving slowly to the living room. Maybe his leg hurts a bit after all. He’s not ready to tell them that, though. Not after making a fuss about it in the bathroom.

Even sits down on the couch, but stops Isak from doing the same, instead having him stand in front of him.

“Maybe we should have a look at that leg after all,” Even suggest, looking up at Isak questioningly, even though he hadn’t phrased it as a question. Isak realizes he’s trying to give Isak a choice and show him he trusts him. Trusts him to tell Even when he’s hurting, even though Even already knows.

Isak nods slowly. “Okay.”

He can hear Jonas and maybe someone else, Mahdi, maybe, sigh, because him agreeing means it wasn’t nothing after all.

Even’s unbuttoning his pants, slowly pulling them down, trying to have the fabric scratch as little as possible against his legs. His eyes linger on the visible bruise and Isak has to look at the wall behind Even.

He knows when they see the bruise on his thigh, but they don’t react as badly as they did with his stomach.

No one says anything really, but then Even’s sighing and gently pulling him down into his lap.

“There we go,” Even says as they settle down, Even sitting, leaning against the armrest, Isak resting against his chest, pressing his nose into Even’s neck. “Do you need anything?”

Isak doesn’t really know. Can’t really think of anything, and ends up shaking his head.

“Maybe your duvet?”

Isak nods. That’s a good idea, maybe. He isn’t wearing anything but his underwear and February isn’t exactly _warm_.

He doesn’t know who brings them the duvet, but suddenly it’s lain over him and Even is fussing about it covering him completely.

The other guys are sitting down around them. Isak doesn’t look at any of them.

It’s quiet. It’s almost unbearable. It’s never felt like this before. This awkward. Not even when Isak was still in the closet or when he had shoved Mahdi.

“I can _hear_ all of you thinking,” he tries to joke, but no one smiles. Maybe Even, but Isak can’t see his face. “Just get it over with,” he sighs, but Even shakes his head, immediately stopping anyone from talking.

“We don’t have to do that now,” Even says. Isak thinks Jonas is trying to protest, but Even doesn’t let him. “We’re going to be completely chill about this, and do what we always do.”

Isak isn’t sure what they always do. They haven’t really tried this before.

“And what it that? What’s our rule?” Even asks, squeezing Isak’s shoulder.

“Take it minute by minute.” Even nods approvingly, muttering a praise.

“And what are we going to do this minute?” Isak feels odd about this, the roles reversed between them, but Even’s putting him at ease. It almost feels nostalgic. And maybe a bit hopeful. They got through it then, they’ll get through it now.

Isak thinks the boys understand this.

“This minute,” Even says, pressing his face into Isak’s curls, “we’re going to sit here, and breathe. Just breathe.”

“That’s chill,” Isak mutters, exaggerating his next breath.

Even chuckles and presses a kiss to his head. “That’s chill.”

**Author's Note:**

> https://dutten-does-the-fanfic.tumblr.com/post/159877498985/the-universe-with-red-towels


End file.
